As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business.  But many seemed to have none, and drifted into the Park.  Some idlers came from curiosity, but most seemed to have some purpose other than the mere spectacle.  From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twenty streets.  As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking up positions, lay at ease.  There was something terrible about the quiet way in which both crowd and troops increased.  The mercury was not high, but it promised to be a hot morning in New York.  All the car lines took off their cars.  Trucks disappeared from the streets.  The exchanges and the banks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their example.  New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced each other.

While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been yelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted himself, and limped towards Peter.

“Mr. Stirling,” he shouted, “come out from those murderers.  I want to tell you something.”

Peter went forward.  “What is it, Podds?” he asked.

Podds dropped his voice.  “We’re out for blood to-day.  But I don’t want yours, if you do murder my fellow-men.  Get away from here, quick.  Hide yourself before the people rise in their might.”

Peter smiled sadly.  “How are Mrs. Podds and the children?” he asked kindly.

“What is a family at such a moment?” shrieked Podds.

“The world is my family.  I love the whole world, and I’m going to revolutionize it.  I’m going to give every man his rights.  The gutters shall reek with blood, and every plutocrat’s castle shall be levelled to the soil.  But I’ll spare you, for though you are one of the classes, it’s your ignorance, not your disposition, that makes you one.  Get away from here.  Get away before it’s too late.”

Just then the sound of a horse’s feet was heard, and a staff officer came cantering from a side street into the square.  He saluted Peter and said, “Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamation forbidding the meeting and parade.  General Canfield orders you to clear the Park, by pushing the mob towards Broadway.  The regiments have been drawn in so as to leave a free passage down the side streets.”

“Don’t try to move us a foot,” screamed Podds, “or there’ll be blood.  We claim the right of free meeting and free speech.”

Even as he spoke, the two regiments formed, stiffened, fixed bayonets, and moved forward, as if they were machines rather than two thousand men.

“Brethren,” yelled Podds, “the foot of the tyrant is on us.  Rise.  Rise in your might.”  Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of bayonets close upon him.  He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing his arms about Peter’s neck.  Peter caught him by the throat with his free arm.

“Don’t push me off,” shrieked Podds in his ear, “it’s coming,” and he clung with desperate energy to Peter.